While in a trance, someone throws a white robe over my shoulders, and I hold it close around my curvy form. Then, we’re hustled off the stage and back into the dressing room. It still smells like warm pizza, but I’m not even hungry anymore. I just want to go home, take a hot shower, and forget that this day ever happened.
“You just won a thousand bucks, girlie,” a voice drawls. “What are you going to do with it?”
“What?” I turn to see a girl wearing a blue vinyl body suit behind me. “A thousand bucks?”
She lifts an eyebrow at me.
“You didn’t know? Seriously, who are you? At least go collect your prize. It’s a thousand dollars. If you don’t want it, then I’ll take it.”
I feel lightheaded. I remember now hearing the woman in red saying something about a cash prize, but a thousand dollars? That would mean I have enough to not just buy dinner, but also pay down some of my bills, and even have a bit left over.
“What…?” I ask, my mouth dry. “Patty, did you hear?”
My friend looks just as surprised as me. Meanwhile, the girl in blue lets out an exasperated sigh.
“The two of you are really something, you know that? Go see the manager. Out into the hall, up those stairs, and behind that door,” she says, gesturing behind herself. Then she stalks away, leaving me stunned.
I turn to Patty, who’s also wearing a white robe and looking equally stunned. “You did really well, Rachel,” she says in a small voice. “Nice job.”
“Um yeah, thanks.” I put on a smile. “If I really won a thousand bucks, then let’s get something tasty for lunch after class next week. Does that sound good?”
The tension leaves her shoulders, and she smiles back. “Sounds amazing, girlfriend. I’ll hold you to it. I’m glad you’re not mad at me about all this.”
I merely shrug and smile. How can I be mad? I was just as hungry for pizza as she was, and I’m the one who didn’t wear a bra this morning. But now, it’s time to claim my prize money, and taking a deep breath, I peer out the back door before tiptoeing out of the dressing room. Within seconds, I’m at the metal staircase, which looks plenty rickety. But I force myself to go up, and knock firmly on the dun-colored door at the top.
“Come,” a low voice sounds from inside.
I let myself in shyly.
“Hi there!” I squeak. “I, um, I won the contest? I’m here for my prize?”
But then the air exits from my lungs because I was expecting the manager to be a balding, older geezer with a beer belly and a gold tooth. That’s who works at strip clubs, right? Instead, I find myself face to face with the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen. He’s got jet black hair swept back from a high forehead, and eyes the color of turquoise that pin me where I stand. A five o’clock shadow curves delightfully over his hard jawline, and a black long-sleeved shirt hugs the muscular bulges of his arms as the fabric emphasizes that broad chest.
“Sit,” he directs. “And shut the door behind you.”
I tiptoe into the room, careful to do as told. A click sounds as the door latches. OMG, did it just lock on its own? But maybe that was my imagination.
Meanwhile, the huge man lounges behind his desk.
“I’m Damon,” he says in a low growl. Then, he gestures to a chair in front of the desk. “Please, sit.”
“Thanks.” I look around the office as he closes the door behind me. There are stacks of papers collecting on top of the filing cabinets along the perimeter of the room. A ceiling fan whirs with white noise above us, and the lighting buzzes faintly. That bulb is going to go any second now. This isn’t the kind of office I would’ve thought a man like this would have. Instead, I would have pictured a sleek, cube-like black office filled with modern, elegant furniture. Not this by a long shot.
But then my eyes catch sight of a photo in a frame on the desk, and there’s an older man smiling in the snap with his arms around a much younger woman. Wait a minute. That man doesn’t look anything like Damon.
“Are you really the manager?” I blurt.
The man’s eyes flick toward me, dancing with amusement. “Come again, honey?” he asks.
I clear my throat and shift a bit in my seat, cheeks flushing. “Are you the manager? The photo on the desk doesn’t look anything like you.”
The handsome man’s eyes drop to the photo, and he chuckles. “No, that’s Tim, and yeah, he’s the manager. He’s out today, so I’m handling his duties. I’m actually the head of security at the Krazy Kat.”